


Hush and pretend

by WritingStag



Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: Childhood Trauma, F/F, Panic Attacks, Touch-Starved, ava has serious trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27359968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingStag/pseuds/WritingStag
Summary: Ava has plenty of trauma and she's worked through approximately -40% of it. Blowing up the Vatican and getting her ass kicked by a demon are just the latest on the list. Yet despite her teams assurances to trust them, Ava still goes to hide her meltdown. But there may be more to it...
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva
Comments: 5
Kudos: 260





	Hush and pretend

**Author's Note:**

> Wow okay I have like 7 WIPS of these guys but I just can't get their voices right. So here's my humble first go, I hope y'all enjoy. Also poor Ava she goes through it in this one.

Ava has learned to cry quietly. She learned very quickly that crying did no good in the orphanage. When she was young and hadn’t learned to cry quietly, muffling herself by biting her shoulder and shoving her face as far into the pillow as she could, Sister Frances would come by and depending on her mood either tell Ava to quit her pathetic moaning and leave the night table light on when she left (she knew Ava hated it) or she would dump a glass of shockingly cold water on Ava and ‘give her something to really cry about’.

It didn’t matter, the outcome was the same. Ava hid her pain. Crying on Beatrice had been the first time Ava had cried in front of someone else in over a decade. And while Beatrice had done her best, (which really was already miles ahead of anyone else) Ava still tucked herself away if she needed to cry. Sure her team wasn’t going to dump cold water on her, but old habits die hard, especially ones that kept you safe. And really, can you blame a girl for sneaking off to sob alone for a little bit after everything that happened?

Ava doesn’t want to be found, and she’d like to believe she lied convincingly enough, but the second she told Mary she was going to take a walk, get some fresh air, the woman is raising an eye brow, opening her mouth to ask questions ava _can’t_ answer, so she rushes a goodbye and all but runs out the door. The motel borders a small wooded area and Ava makes right for it.

Back in the room Mary rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone.

**Mary:** Ava ran off into the woods, you should give her a minute and go check on her.

**Beatrice:** Just now?

**Mary:** Yeah, she looked pretty upset so bring the big guns.

**Beatrice:** why would I need guns?

**Mary:** you know what, I’ll let that one go cause your tired, just go find Ava. I got a feeling you’re the only one Ava will talk to.

**Beatrice:** Thank you for letting me know.

Mary set her phone down and settled in to clean her shotguns. A few moments later she heard a door shut and Beatrice hurry past the window. With things taken care of, Mary started her own ritual to end the day.

Ava meanwhile had found a tree, long since fallen over and curled up with her back to the trunk and tucked herself in close to a hollow and quite effectively disappeared. The tears came slowly at first, a slow trickle down her cheeks until her breath started to hitch and she started sucking in breaths and her tears turned into heart wrenching sobs. It was a short jump off a long cliff after that and Ava curled into herself, trying to hold herself together as she shook. All attempts at staying quiet were out the window and Ava gasped and her breath rattled as she desperately sucked in air, hands pressed to the sides of her head, like it would stop the terrible thoughts from spilling out.

She could feel her whole body shaking with the effort of keeping her together. Her muscles screaming, bones rattling, tendons stretching, blood boiling. Ava could feel her body coming apart. Distantly, in the very back of her mind, she could almost hear Beatrice telling her to calm down, if she didn’t get control back the panic attack she was clearly having would overwhelm her. Her eyes felt like they were made of sand, the shallow breaths she was sucking in felt like thick soup in her lungs.

Ava had been murdered and it hadn’t hurt this much.

“Fuck.” She wheezes to herself, trying to stop the tears from choking her. “fuck fuck shit fuck.” The swearing helps. Sort of. Instinctually she keels forward onto her hands and knees and starts to choke on her own breathes, panic taking over completely.

She sounds like she’s rattling her own death rictus now and it scares Ava to her very core, the Halo starting to pulse in time with her panic. Faintly she thinks she should have trusted her team and she wouldn’t be in this mess, maybe if she had even just hidden in the bathroom instead of the middle of the fucking woods-

“Ava?”

It cuts through the haze like one of her sharp, well-tended knives.

“Help!” She rasps weakly, still hyperventilating and very much panicking and unable to raise her voice. “Here!” she calls, gaining just a little more volume. A long, agonizing minute of silence and then footsteps and suddenly Beatrice is here.

“Ava!” she seems startled at the state of her and she hesitates a second before she shuffles to a sitting position and with expert ease helps Ava sit with her back to her chest. From there she folds her arms around Ava, holds her tight and close, warm in her safe and comforting hold. She rocks back and forth slightly and it helps. “You’re safe now, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Take deep breaths with me alright?” And Beatrice holds her tight and it feels safe and that brings a fresh round of tears. Ava sobs but sags into Beatrice, clutching at the arms around her. The unbridled panic slowly but surely fades with Beatrice’s steady hold and constant reassurances. Ava doesn’t stop crying though, now embarrassed and ashamed for running again and for being found in the state she’s in.

Sensing the change, Beatrice loosens her hold and lets Ava turn around and bury her face against her neck. The simple black T-shirt she was wearing was quickly soaked and Beatrice began rubbing Ava’s back. The smaller woman shuddered and whimpered at the touch but pushed out into it and Beatrice kept going, keeping her close while her sobs quieted to soft cries. “It’s okay Ava, whatever is scaring or upsetting you, you don’t have to handle it alone. I’m here, the other sisters have your back, you are not alone.”

“I can’t cry in front of nuns.” The admission is abrupt, Ava’s voice wet and trembling. She sniffles and draws back, just enough to wipe her nose on her sleeve before tucking herself close again. “I…” her voice catches and Beatrice, hand shaking, takes a deep breath before running it through Ava’s hair. She’s rewarded with a shiver of delight and Ava nuzzling closer into her, hands fisted in her t-shirt.

“When I first got to… Saint M- the orphanage I used to cry at night. A lot. Sister Frances got very tired of my ‘insistent pathetic little whimpering’!” she imitates sister Frances, and Beatrice can feel the icy drip of malice down her own spine at the imitation, she can’t imagine what 7 year old Ava felt living it. “At first she’d just tell me to shut up and ‘punish’ me by leaving the lamp next to my bed on. I couldn’t sleep with it on and she knew. But I couldn’t stop and soon she would…” Ava’s voice catches, her heart pounding with sadness and fear. How could she tell Beatrice, a _nun_ how much abuse she’d suffered at the hands of what technically counted as her sister?

Beatrice doesn’t know where the bravery comes from, but she slips her hand down the side of Ava’s face, feels how wet and cold the skin is and cups her cheek, rubbing her thumb along her cheekbone. “You can go on, I’m listening if you want to continue.” Ava chances a look up and meets Beatrice’s eyes, warm and kind and genuine and a few fresh tears bubble out, swiftly wiped away by her thumb.

“She started dumping cold water on me. Just you know, a whole cup dumped over my head. And she was right, I stopped crying.” Ava stutters and Beatrice rubs her face comfortingly. “And then I learned to be quite. You… you were actually there the next time I cried in front of someone.” Ava says it softly at first, then bitterly, curling tighter into Beatrice; who knows her hands were made to hold her, but she hadn’t known how then, has since learned.

“Old habits.” Ava murmurs and she must truly be exhausted because she doesn’t even seem to realize the pun she’s made. She then sighs and for the first time since Beatrice met her, Ava is quiet. It’s no wonder Ava hadn’t wanted to join them, she likely had deep trauma around nuns and likely wasn’t even aware of it herself. A thought strikes Beatrice then.

“Am I making things worse?” she says without fully realizing she’s said it out loud until Ava lifts her head and gives her a smile she wishes she could pocket and keep close to her chest to keep her warm at night.

“No.” Ava pauses and works her jaw like she’s trying to find the words. “You… you’re the first person to ever hold me and comfort me in over a decade. You were the first not to shun me, you believed me even when you had no reason to… you’re not a nun. You’re just Beatrice to me.” Ava falls silent and tucks herself close again like she hadn’t just developed nuclear technology and dropped it on Beatrice’s unsuspecting heart. She struggles to keep her breathing even while Ava seems to calm, finding the steady (or somewhat steady now) rise and fall of her chest comforting.

“Are you still a nun?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, you did kind of blow up the Vatican for me.”

Beatrice colored and Ava giggled, her eye brightening at having flustered the usually unflappable nun. “I…”

Before Beatrice could protest Ava levered herself upwards and pressed a soft and gentle kiss to her cheek. “Thank you.” Her fists tightened in Beatrice’s shirt and Ava’s voice shook. “I think I’d have died if you hadn’t come for me.”

“I promised I’d never leave you alone.” Beatrice replies, because it’s the truth and it’s the only thing her flailing mind can grab onto in her internal panic at the open affection.

They don’t talk for a long few minutes and it’s not until Ava snores softly and then abruptly jerks herself back to the present, causing Beatrice to giggle softly before helping Ava to her feet. She wobbles but Beatrice simply loops her arm around Ava’s waist and Ava mirrors her and together they amble back towards the motel.

Lilith doesn’t say a word when they arrive at Beatrice’s room, she simply grabs her bag and throws it over her shoulder before going to knock on Camila’s door.

“Can we…” Ava starts then stops.

“Yes.” Beatrice replies simply, choosing to ignore the voice in her head that whispers this can’t lead anywhere good.

Beatrice pulls a fresh T-shirt out of the thrift store bag near the foot of the bed and takes it to the bedroom, letting Ava get changed as well in some privacy. (And totally not because Beatrice needs to calm herself down because while Ava had asked and she wanted to provide, the idea of spending all night cuddled up to Ava was terrifying as it was thrilling.)

“You can come out.” Ava calls out and Beatrice steps out, leaving the dirty shirt in the bathroom and folded up on the side of the tub. When she does she can’t help but stare. Ava has chosen a long pair of fluffy pyjama pants (who picked those?) and a tank top which read ‘ queen of the cowboys’ on the front, a bedazzled cowboy hat beneath the text. “Beatrice, I was crippled for a decade and I know this shirt has to be some sort of crime. Did cowboys even have queens?” Ava jokes and Beatrice rolls her eyes but smiles, relaxing as Ava seems to slowly becoming more herself.

“Historically, most cowboys were black and or gay so I find it unlikely.” Beatrice replies, slipping under the covers of the bed, taking the side closest to the door.

“Huh, Hollywood sure did take its artistic liberties.”

“As it does with most things unfortunately.”

Ava shrugs at that and instead copies Beatrice and gets under the covers and flicks off the lamp on her side table, leaving only the lamp on Beatrice’s side to light the room. She lays still for a long moment before she rolls over to face Beatrice, a little startled to find her already looking at her. “Uhm, are you sure you’d be okay with this?”

“With cuddling?”

“Yeah I mean, no offense but you’re clearly not one for a ton of touching.”

Beatrice blinks, a little surprised Ava had picked up on it. Ava herself was just as touched starved if not more so than Beatrice and so she’d tried to indulge the other girl as much as she comfortably could…but still she was still distant, or had been right up until arq-tech. Ava interrupts her train of thought by grabbing her hand under the covers and squeezing gently

“It’s okay, I can just stay on my side of the bed-“

Beatrice cuts her off this time by pulling Ava into her arms, the two of them fitting together well, Ava tucking herself under Beatrice’s chin and feeling strong arms snake around her back, holding her close. Their legs tangle together and Ava sighs happily, nuzzling closer and causing Beatrice’s heart rate to sky rocket.

They lay together quietly for almost ten minutes and Beatrice is sure Ava has fallen asleep when she speaks up. “Hey Beatrice?”

“Yes?”

“If more nuns, fuck if more people were like you I think the world would be better. I think… I think I wouldn’t have been so afraid to join the OCS if I didn’t think everyone of you was going to be like sister Frances. Im still working it out about her but…” Ava takes a deep shuddering breath which Beatrice can feel fan across her chest, making something in her heart tighten and tense in the most wonderful way. “But you feel safe and I feel safe with you and I think… I think this is what love is supposed to be?”

Beatrice can’t say anything to that, can’t stop her heart from spazzing out in her chest, can’t stop the few tears that roll down her cheeks that she hides by smushing her face to the top of Ava’s head and breathing deeply.

“Yeah Ava.” She eventually replies, her voice tight. Ava doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t comment on the fact that she sounds strangled, just presses in closer and delicately presses a single chaste kiss to her shoulder, her lips warm even through the fabric.

Beatrice clings to Ava just as she clings back.

Eventually the exhaustion overcomes them and soon Ava is snoring softly, Beatrice following not long after, lulled to sleep by the feeling of safety, despite it all.


End file.
